Kingdom of Bones: Episode Three
More stuff i need to edit The appearance of Zelphneil is exactly what you thought it name was. It was ugly, but sometimes when you focused on the wooded areas, the water streams, and mountains, you could forget every single problem in the world. That is until the cries and out roars of large crowds such as the one in front of him screaming for change. Franco didn’t have much plans to hear someone preach. It was bad enough that he already had a handful of problems for himself. He entered an alley way. The stone rusted buildings lining both sides of his shoulders. At the end of the alley way were stairs leading downwards to a wooden door. Everything from the out roars to the wooden door was still the same. He knocked on the door three times before the mail slot of the door opened. All you could see were two eyes behind the mail slot. “Who goes there?” A voice questions behind the door. “Grapes for the king, in return he’ll save me.” Franco struggled to say. The door slowly opened. “Ah you’re back?” The man says. Franco can finally see the man. He doesn’t recognize him not one bit. He has damp eyes, mid-age, and a bald spot at the tip of his head. “Where is he?” “No time for conversation aye?” The man asks and gets no response. “I’ll just call you sticky legs. Who knows what you have sticking out of your ass.” He says following with a laugh. Franco smirks and in a quick move he grabs the guy by his shoulder and lifts one arm simultaneously pinning both of them against the stone wall. “If you’re smart, then I suggest you to pick your next words wisely.” The man eyes were widened. “Perhaps it was a lady between your legs?” The man grinned, showing his yellow teeth.” *** It was nowhere close to music to Jemma’s ears. Her father’s death wounded her very much. She never thought but knew that the day of her becoming the queen would eventually become true. The toughest part of her father’s death was pretending to be strong. She wanted to weep in her father’s arm but knew he wasn’t there, even if she did have someone she still wouldn’t be able to. People of Beliemis looked up to her, while others secretly whispered their displeasure of her ruling. Jemma sits in a conference hall. A prestigious hall built for the most powerful people of Beliemis. In other words, it was the room where all decisions were made. Today, the finest lords across Beliemis great landscape were gathered around a table. It was time for Jemma to remember how her father held herself. Be brave, strong, and not fall. Heath, who was the king’s advisor spoke first, “Queen Jemma, we’re all gathered here today to come to a decision of our next move. King Laman has made the choice to hold his man back at once.” Jemma raised an eyebrow out of curiosity and spoke, “Do we have an ideal count of how many man they have Sir Duntower?” Duntower was a man of a tan colo. He had a charming smile but the scars and bruises made Jemma feel that there was an odd mystery about him. He was King’s Gallus lead general. “My spies informed me that they have close to twenty-thousand man, and those numbers includes those who are injured.” Heath spoke, “Perhaps their injuries totals a dramatic amount. It would explain why King Laman doesn’t attack now.” Lord Norridge an older fellow with a balding head, and eyes tough to stare into spoke was the first lord to speak, “King Laman is no fool. In fact, I believe he’s sending an army here right now.” He said in a hard stale voice. Another lord, Lord Surcly felt the need to speak. Jemma thought he was much easier to lay eyes upon, something about him made her trust him; perhaps it was his mustache. “If he was on his way here now then I’m sure my spies would have sent a raven or messenger.” Jemma finally spoke, “When was the last time you heard from your spies Lord Surcly?” The whole table which was filled with men turned their attention to her. The man gave a cheeky grin, “It’s been a few days. I admit, they would have sent some form of a message but you should know it’s no easy task of entering and leaving Chemland on a boat heading for Beliemis.” Lord Norridge spoke again, “Send them on a boat to Wiverly then. The Chems have no problem trading with them.” “You should already know that I thought of that already. The last time I tried that, I received one of my spies’ head in a box.” Lord Surcly said with a grimace. Norridge could do nothing but rest a knuckle on his chin. “Enough.” Jemma made her presence known, “How many man can we rally Lord Duntower?” “fifth-teen thousand at most. I’ll admit our numbers are may be lower, but for every one of our man, equals out to ten of their man. I’m sure any lord in this room, and any man who pledged himself to our banners would agree.” Some of the lords at the table let out sounds of excitement, while others smiled acknowledging that they agree. “If what you say is true, and King Laman is recuperating then I believe we less to worry about.” Heath spoke up, “Queen before we wrap this up, I like to remind you that you’re expected to marry.” There were certain aspects about marriage that scared Jemma. She loved all the right reasons to get married, like love and good chemistry. The aspects that scared her the most was marrying a stranger; she knew her marriage would be forced. Lord Surcly spoke, “I agree. Beliemis needs have a new king. One that can rule, and I believe my son Dickon is the perfect suitor for you.” The thought seemed pleasant. Girls across the nation spoke about how charming the boy is, and man rattled that they could beat the boy in a swordfight even though they knew they were wrong. She seen Lord Dickon fight with a beautiful style. The boy had the charisma to rule an entire army. Jemma could only smile at the idea, but in her gut she knew it had to be too good to be true. Sir Duntower spoke, “Dickon is not what this nation needs. We may have a strong army Queen but if we want to ensure a victory, perhaps a foreigner could be a good suitor.” Some of the lords faces grew to disgust, one of them Lord Norridge, “Are you nuts? We can’t just bring a foreigner in here to lead our man into battle.” Duntower spoke again, “I assure you that no foreigner will lead our man. I’ll hold the front lines like a true blooded Beliemer should. It’ll be a political marriage.” “A political marriage?” Jemma said, “All my life I’ve waited to marry a strong, good man for love only to be handed over to a foreigner?” Heath spoke, “As hard for me to say this to you Queen, it doesn’t sound like an all too terrible idea. You marry a prince and in return they offer their support in the war.” Jemma felt sick to her stomach. It was always a ream to marry a man as good and strong as Lord Dickon, and as if she was stabbed in the gut in dying, her childhood dream was fading away. Her attention was focused on all the lords in the room, some of their faces were as still as a rock, while others seemed to still be wondering if it was a good idea at all. Jemma cared for her country enough to let her dreams go, “Can you tell me of potential suitors Heath?” “The first person to come to my head would be Prince Griffin, second heir and son to King Gerald Dowe the first of Litaya. I’ve heard nothing but good things of the boy, and if he as true of a son they say he is of King Gerold then the boy means to fight well.” “Aye,” Duntower agreed, “I’ve had the chance to meet him in person. The boy is experienced in battle and could mean well for Beliemis.” “Sir Duntower,” Lord Surcly spoke, “If this boy is as experience as you say he is, I’ll support.” “And I won’t.” Lord Norridge said, “I will not sit here and let a foreignor destroy Beliemis.” Jemma next decision was by far the toughest in her life. She didn’t know what was wrong or right so instead of thinking on it anymore she just spoke. “Send a letter to Litaya. I like to meet this potential suitor. Meanwhile, I must do something important.” Lord Norridge stood up from his chair furious, “You’re making a mistake Queen.” Duntower stood up, “You do not have the right to speak to the Queen in such manner. If you continue Ryon, then I must ask you to leave.” “It’s fine, I was thinking the same thing to.” *** She felt a nerve of guilt wench through her. It didn’t feel right that she was graduating her inquisition training while Cullen sat in the dungeons. She asked her father countless times of what proof he had against the boy but the answer was always the same. That it was top secret. It all didn’t seem right. Alessia knew she would only get one graduation. Accomplishing inquisitor training was no easy task. It was a big accomplishment, not many woman was known to wield a sword, and not even half of them could wield a sword as good as Alessia could. She was top tier. She may not have been the strongest but she made up for her strength with her speed and agility. She was in her room waiting for her to be officially inducted into the Viliany’s society of Inquisitors. It was the perfect timing considering she was prepared to hunt the man who made the choice to attack Viliany by stealing the crown. It didn’t matter if he returned it, the thought of someone walking through her room touching her crown disgusted her. Her Father entered, he looks both nervous but his smile said otherwise. “Congratulations on graduating your training.” “Thank you father,” She said following with a smile hugging the king, “Soon I’ll be among the inquisitor society.” That’s when his eyes turned a pale cold color of grey, “About that darling… Your mother and I don’t think it would be the greatest idea for you to be inducted.” Alessia felt a rush of emotions. Anger, sadness, false hope. She always knew her parents were against her wielding a sword but to stop her from joining the inquisition would be a dagger to her heart. “You can’t be serious?” She pushed her dad away, “I’ve worked long and hard for this only for you guys to disapprove?” Her father tried to lean in to comfort the her but she stood up and stared out her window. The last thing she wanted to do was look him in the face. “Darling, please just try to see it from our point of view. We only want what’s best for you…” He struggled to get the next words out, “It’s why we asked the inquisition to bend the rules. They won’t accept princesses.” Alessia turned. For a moment she wished she was somewhere far away from Viliany. “Why?” She asked. “We know of your obsession with this thief. We just don’t understand it. Your crown is back, and yet you continue to try to search for this boy. You’re going to get hurt.” “I only do it because of what he means to our family. He attacked us and everyone in Viliany when he tried to steal the crown. Do you not see this father? Are you blind?” Her father lost his patience, “That is it! You’re far too obsessed and you will not be an inquisitor.” Her father stood up and made his way out of her room. Alessia watched with anger. She hadn’t seen her father angry in so long. The last time he was this angry was when her elder brother Avan refused to remain in Viliany until he explored the world. The memory made her miss her brother and she wondered if this was what he felt like when her parents disapprove of his aspirations. It was at that moment when a dark raven flew on the edge of her balcony. The raven let out a noise which sounded like “Alessia!” She turned and in its beak was a seal envelope. She could tell it was from Beliemis by the wax imprinting of Beliemis Castle tip and the star above it. She used an envelope cutter to open the seal and begin reading the letter. My dear friend, Alessia. '' I would say princess, but I know how much you envy that word. I write to you in hopes you receive this letter and consider what I have to say. I congratulate you on finishing your inquisitor training. It is why I offer you your first mission. You were there the night I was attacked and I know you have a memory as strong as iron. I want you to investigate in who tried to have me killed. I ask you this as a friend, I would do it myself but I’m far too busy with my own affairs. '' Sincerely, Jemma Gallus ~ *** The room was lit with candles. A man sat in a purple chair wearing a brown cloak on his back. He had neck length blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes. The boy was no other than Jacoby, otherwise known as the Beggar King. He smirked, and his thin lips made his smile seem more believable. “What brought you back?” He asked. Franco analyzed the room. It was filled with bags of food, and coin, and a cat. The room was more full of items then he had last remembered. “I wanted to come and say hi to an old friend.” Jacoby stood up from his chair and gradually walked towards the boy. “The last time you were here, you seemed pretty confident in your ability to make a living all by yourself. Which I have to admit, I’m impressed. Rumors have it that the whole country has been on high alert, apparently because a crown was stolen, or at least I thought so… Until I learned the princess still had it.” “Any other stories you like to tell?” He says following with a laugh. “That’s enough of a response for me to know it was you. Like I said, I am impressed. I could use a guy like you, but I am curious… What brings you back here?” Franco figured he had no time to waste so he got straight to the point. “I want to make a deal with you.” “A proposition? I’m listening.” Jacoby turned around to sit in his throne. He sat forward like a little kid hearing a must-hear story. “I need medicine from the Oscaro mountains, and you have men that can help me.” “Oscaro mountains? I’m interested, but how does this benefit me?” “I’ll get you a crowned jewel from the Prince of Darkness himself.” “The Prince of Darkness? I thought you believed he was nothing more than a myth.” “I’ve heard a lot of stories while I was away.” “I understand your whole proposition but I must ask; why not hire a band of mercenaries.” “Of all people, you should know mercenaries only bid for gold. They’re not dumb to risk their lives going to a place like Oscaro. They will have reason to flee, but if I have a couple of lackeys who wish to serve the beggar king, then they will stay.” “This is a good reminder about how much I like you Frank. You think with your head; but I’m not convinced. Why would I send you when I could send anyone else to collect a gem?” “Like you said, I think with my head.” Jacoby grinned, “We have a deal. 11 fine men, and don’t get distracted or think with your dick.” *** It was night time in Villiany. After receiving the letter and the confrontation with her father, Alessia found herself in a suit of despair. She wished she was with her brother Avan; he was always there for her when she needed him the most, and now she was gone. Perhaps her parents were right and she was nothing but rotten. It made her wonder if she even deserved the life of a royal, then again no deserved to be noble. She found herself in the castle’s dungeons. The dungeons were a place no one wanted to be. The air inside was replacing with sorrow and grief. The darkness was engulfed around her until she came upon a torch. She lifted the torch and held it in front of her bodies. It was the first time she ever been in the dungeons. As a little girl, she heard stories of monsters roaming free; perhaps monsters really did roam. She heard sounds of giggling, panting, heartbeats. The steps of her boots ringed throughout the hall. She finally stopped. She gasped seeing the boy sitting against the wall. She didn’t know whether he was awake or asleep, or worst: dead. She pulled two pins from her pocket and reached for the lock. Pick locking was one of the skills they learned during her training as an inquisitor. Just because she couldn’t be one didn’t mean she had to forget what she learned. She opened the prison cell and lifted the boy’s head up. He had dirty dark hair with whiskers of yellow poking from al distances of his head. It was Cullen. Her father told her the boy would be sent away to do hard labor. She had a gut feeling he was wrong. She reached inside of her bag and reached for a canteen of water to pour on the boy’s face. The boys eye flung wide open, and like a cat he jumped vigorously to the other side of the prison cell. “I’ve done no wrong!” he yelped. “Please, leave.” “Cullen,” Alessia spoke in a soft voice, “It’s me. Relax, drink some water.” She felt the canteen of water slip from her grasp. The sound of water could be heard streaming among the boy’s face, neck, and chest. “What happened to you?” She cupped his face with her hands. The boy set the canteen down and stared at her. His eyes were filled with the color of red. “They said I had to be punish. Your father told me guards like myself shouldn’t hog up the air. Please you have to believe me princess.” Her Father was always strict on rules. Cullen wasn’t a good guard but deep down she knew the boy was not just that. He was a warm-hearted and people with warm hearts didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Her thinking process had changed. She wanted her anymore for the simple fact the boy knew who the thief was, but because she knew he wasn’t just an item to be used. He was more than that: an ally. “Get up. We’re getting out of here.” She reached for his side and gradually helped pulled himself up until he was able to support himself on the walls. “Why are you doing this?” he asked desperately. It all seemed to make sense. The way Cullen spoke was enough indication that he wouldn’t never betray her by stealing her crown. The way her father defended his decision to put the boy in the dungeons. Her father locked him up to stop her from going after the real thief. “Because fuck the king.” ***